I have finally lost count of how many times I have been on a mountain bike since my first ride in April. Four months, somewhere between 12 and 15 rides.

The two trails I'm — let's not say familiar with — on a nodding acquaintance with are the Lawrence River Trails and the Orange Loop at Shawnee Mission Park. River Trails: flat and fast, beginner-friendly trail, with one technical section. Orange: relative to my skills, 55% easy (minimal roots or flat rocks at most), 35% intermediate (more challenging lines; rocks and big roots), 10% hard (rock gardens or rocky uphills). Not completely beginner-friendly, but engaging. I run Orange and love it.

I haven't been out to the river trails in a couple of months. The last times I was there I didn't ride well. Death gripping the whole way, clipped-in falls, freaked out by one thing and another. And until last night I hadn't been on the MTB at all since my wheel-bender at Draper.
But now triathlon season is over and I won't wreck an expensive race with an MTB injury. Highs are in the 80s and low 90s, down from the high 90s and 100s; I could road bike but not much else in that oven.

My attention is turning to skills and strengths. Nothing looms on the race calendar. Like last year, what I want immediately is a long sweet interlude of play, to forget goals and performance, no stopwatches, no expectations to live up or down to.

The brain and body want to weave themselves together seamlessly. And I know how to do this: GO PLAY. Run a long way, picking the route as I go, not looking at time. Take Gogo out in the first bluegray light of morning. Swim for no purpose but to feel the water. Run on trails and stop to breathe and see the woods. And now, new entry, ride on trails.

If last year is any sign, some of my best progress will happen while I'm playing. While I'm not measuring myself against anything. While the lid is off and anything is possible and nobody even knows what I'm doing out there.

What does play on the MTB look like? It looks a lot like walking the bike right now. But it won't always. Up to now, every ride has felt like survival — hanging on, staying upright, pushing through, facing fear. Ride everything I can to show myself I can. I've ridden 85% of Orange and fallen down the other 15%. But I wasn't learning much except that I could survive.

Last night and tonight, I walked a lot of stuff on Orange that I had already ridden. My intuition told me to ride only the stuff I could approach with confidence, walk the rest. While on the trail, I wasn't thinking anything but "Now I'm riding" and "Now I'm walking." But I'll pick apart for you the reasoning under the intuition. I didn't do the reasoning first. It always starts with intuition, gets cross-checked with observation.

Why would my intuition tell me to walk my bike over stuff I could ride? Because I've lived with my brain a long time and I know how it works.

My body (including my brain) is not very good at some of the basic things required for mountain biking. Quick, specific responses. Relaxing while powering. Confidence during adrenaline rushes. It has never had to learn them. But my brain is very good at teaching itself how to learn.

So far, I have only allowed it to learn survival. Such a big lesson that it hasn't had space to learn how to ride or read the trail. It doesn't even know HOW to learn that stuff yet.

OK, brain. How do you want to learn to command my nerves and muscles to move around the trail on this bike? 'Cause that's what you're going to do. Brain said: TRY SLOWING DOWN. SHOW ME WHAT YOUR RIDING WITH CONFIDENCE LOOKS LIKE. I'LL FIGURE IT OUT IF YOU SLOW THE HELL DOWN. AND STOP SHOCKING ME WITH CHEMICALS EVERY FIVE MINUTES WHEN YOU RIDE SOMETHING MORE RUGGED THAN I CAN EVEN COMPREHEND OR REMEMBER ACCURATELY.

What that actually sounded like in my head was, "Why don't I just walk a lot a few times."

So last night, at square one, I rode the sections of trail with no obstacles and walked everything else, including some flat rocks and rooty sections I could have ridden in survival mode. Slow, easy gears. Letting my brain see how easily the bike rolls over everything, letting my brain see that I can get on and off the bike any time I want. Letting my body and brain get a good grip on the physical data of confidence. If it didn't look easy to my brain, I didn't ride it. But as I pushed the bike through, I would see, "I can ride this." And I would let my brain have a good look.

Tonight, same scheme. I don't force myself through anything. (See, brain? We can stop any time we want.) Ride what looks easy. It was weird how well it worked; might be a fluke. More stuff that I walked yesterday fell into the "of course I'm riding that," total confidence category. I didn't even notice I was riding bits of the "want to walk it" sections until after I was through them.

Today I moved around more on the bike. Again, intuition. But I understand what's going on, that I'm letting my brain feel how my weight moves different ways over the pedals on the easy roots and rocks and what the bike does in response. Feed it that data, try enough things with intuition and intention, and I can trust my brain to learn what my body should do to get the best ride. I don't even have to think about it. Which is making these rides a lot more fun.

I hit a few rocks that were unpredictable and caused me to adjust quickly to keep the bike upright. Survival. I took a couple of lines that got me into trouble. I stopped and walked the bike back to look at the better line, then walked through it.

I walked plenty, partly also because I am having trouble clipping in and out and need to alter either my cleats or my shoes themselves.

Who knows how I looked to the MTBers out on the trail. That much walking looks like a bad night. More than one asked if I was OK because I was off the bike at a rideable section. "Oh yeah!" I said with a big smile. "Great!" And to the last one, they all grinned and said back, "Okay! Have fun!"

Riding the trail clean, when I can do that, will be fun. And if I know my brain, it will have me riding better far more quickly and with more confidence this way than if I force it to process and latch onto skills when it is overwhelmed with what it perceives as survival.

It is a good sign that today when I walked through rocky sections and into intermediate stuff, my brain said, "Wow, my bike wants to ride this. My bike wants me to ride it here." It is a good sign that I was laughing and letting my hands relax by the end of the ride. It is a good sign that I was conscious of braking. It is a good sign that I wanted to get back on the bike, always. It is a good sign how I rode that last rooty uphill, accelerating, alert, eager.

And it is a very good sign that I really want to go back to the river trails now.